Medical History
by DC Derringer
Summary: As Castiel becomes more human, Sam and Dean need to pay more attention to his ailments.


**Title:** Medical History

**Pairing:** General

**Rating:** G

**Warnings:** None

**Summary:** As Castiel becomes more human, his ailments require more care from Dean and Sam

**A/N:** A little drabble set vaguely in season 5 if Castiel hadn't gotten his powers back.

As Castiel grew more and more human, as his angel powers left him, he found he was almost daily assaulted with new sensations to experience, and ordeals to surpass. He was grateful to have the Winchesters around to help him through it. He noticed, of course, their worry, as his power waned, and he was left more and more helpless, but at times, he thought he also noticed some excitement, some pleasure as they showed him yet another human task or experience.

Boasting and proud of his technique, Dean had carefully showed him how to shave, getting close and smooth without cutting himself, after a comment that Castiel was starting to look like a 'mountain man.'

Convivially, though with a little embarrassment, Sam had taken him to buy new clothes, specifically underwear, so he would have something to wear when they did laundry. They didn't have time to dry clean Jimmy's suit while they were on the road.

When Castiel started to feel hunger, the two boys were exceptionally worried, and excited, and a wild bout of experimenting had begun. Castiel learned to be wary of the food Dean urged him to try, especially after one very memorable night at a Mexican restaurant. Dean had laughed at him after he gulped down water rapidly, trying to soothe the fiery burn on his tongue from the too spicy salsa Dean had pushed him to try. Later in the evening, as he made several embarrassing trips to the toilet, leaving his body aching and trembling, he swore to never try anything Dean suggested again.

He found that he did not like overly sweet foods, they were cloying, and tacky, and left his mouth feeling raw. Spicy food was completely off the list. Coffee upset his stomach, but tea was good with just a little sugar. No milk. He'd already known he liked beef in general, from their encounter with Famine, but he liked steak and hamburgers especially. Sam was happy that Castiel liked vegetables.

And so there they were, sitting in a Biggerson's, waiting for their meals. Dean and Sam had a beer each. Castiel stuck with water. He didn't like how beer made him frantically need to pee, repeatedly. Dean had urged him to try the chicken-fried steak, and Castiel had only consented after Sam seconded the recommendation. Dean had also ordered something called 'hot wings' as an appetizer.

When the hot wings appeared, Castiel eyed them warily, as the brothers dug in, picking up the tiny chicken legs, dipped them in a creamy white sauce and devoured them. Dean held out one gooey, sticky chicken wing to Castiel.

"Try one. They're good," he said.

"Is it spicy?" Castiel asked, eyeing the food suspiciously.

"Only a little. But it's good."

'Only a little,' translated from Dean's vocabulary to Castiel's as 'extremely.' A glance at Sam confirmed his suspicion as the younger Winchester shook his head discreetly when Dean wasn't looking.

Castiel shook his head, and instead reached for the sliced vegetables that decorated the plate, and had been pointedly ignored by the brothers. The light green vegetable, celery, didn't taste like much, just water and bitter. The little orange sticks though, carrots, were rooty, and just a little sweet. Castiel liked them and nibbled them slowly, savoring them until they were all gone, except for the one that had fallen into a glob of the hot wing sauce.

"Uhm, Cas, what's wrong with your face?" Dean asked suddenly, looking worried.

"What?" Castiel asked, touching his face worriedly, having no idea what was wrong.

"You're splotchy," Sam said. "And you're lips are getting red."

Castiel licked his lips self-consciously, and then felt them tingling. "My lips feel weird," he said plaintively, the worry swelling up in him, larger than before. "What's wrong? Am I sick?"

"Looks like an allergic reaction," Sam said, with his brow furrowed. "Can you breathe all right?"

Castiel took a deep, shuddery breath, but nodded. He seemed able to breathe without any great problem, except for the slight panic he was starting to feel. But there was no pain, or shortness of breath.

"Have you ever eaten carrots before?" Sam asked. When Castiel shook his head, Sam nodded. "OK. Don't eat them again. You must be allergic. We'll get the food to go and get some medicine for you at the store."

Castiel nodded and looked forlornly at the last lone carrot on the plate while he idly scratched his neck, which had started to itch.

Back at the motel room, Sam gave him two small pink pills, called anti-histamines, told him not to scratch his hives, and to let them know if any other symptoms came up. Castiel nodded, took the medicine, and tried not to scratch himself as he sat on the bed, idly poking at his dinner. He didn't feel very hungry anymore.

"So, he's allergic to carrots. What's the big deal?" Dean said over his burger, a little lopsided from its trip in the take-away bag.

"What if he has a really bad allergy to something? It could be a lot worse than hives."

"No way to know until he tries something."

"We can try pulling Jimmy's medical records. It's his body after all."

"All right. We'll look into it tomorrow."

Castiel listened to the conversation attentively, but didn't really follow all of it. At first, he had been annoyed when the Winchesters talked about him, like he wasn't there, or like he was some sort of pet that couldn't understand their conversations. But he found, listening to the unguarded conversations, usually about himself and his increasingly human body, were enlightening, so it ceased to bother him anymore.

A few days later, after a trip to Pontiac, Illinois, which Castiel had sat out of, in fear of running into Jimmy Novak's abandoned family, and facing the guilt and accusations that would accompany that, Dean returned to their motel with several folders of papers and laid them out on the Formica table where Castiel was sitting.

"Today is your lucky day, Cas. I got your whole medical history, right here, just for you."

Castiel leaned forward and started shuffling through the papers that read, "Novak, James," on the little tab on the side. Inside, the papers were an assortment of colors and sizes, with different forms and handwriting, some diagrams, and typed letters. It was a sea of information that he couldn't begin to understand.

Dean seemed to sense his confusion, and pulled some of the papers toward himself, to look through them. Castiel let him and waited patiently for the summary.

"Let's start with the basics, eh? Your birthday is on November 23, and you're 38. Huh, who knew you were getting so old?"

"Dean, I am many millions of years old. It is only this vessel that is 38, which isn't that old."

"It is for humans. You're almost over the hill. Let's see what else…" Dean gleaned through the papers some more, quickly able to shuffle through the ones that were of no importance. "Hey, here, allergies… Yep, carrots are one, mild though. Penicillin, that's really good to know."

"What is penicillin?"

"An anti-biotic. Medicine. Really common, but don't worry, they have other kinds. And apparently you're allergic to oak trees, too…" Dean said, sounding a little perplexed. "Who in the world would eat oak trees?"

"It's an airborne allergy," Sam said, with an eye roll. "Cas, you'll probably sneeze and get watery eyes in the spring if there are any oak trees around. The anti-histamines will help with that, too."

"Thank you," Castiel said, and filed away the information. Don't eat carrots. Don't take penicillin. Don't go near oak trees in the spring. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Hmmm… Well, you don't have an appendix," Dean said, flipping through more papers.

"…Do I need that?" Castiel asked.

"Nah, it's one of those… vesti…vestible… vestibule? Organs?"

"Vestigial," Sam corrected him, giving his brother a 'you're stupid' look. He took a look at Jimmy's papers. "It's just an organ humans don't really use anymore. Sometime they cause problems. Jimmy had it out when he was eleven, so it probably burst or something."

Dean suddenly reached forward and tugged up Castiel's shirt on the right side. "Yeah, look, you still have the scar," Dean said, pointing out a small, shiny patch of skin just above Castiel's hip. He looked at it oddly, having never noticed it before. It was faint, small, and neat, unlike the jagged and ugly scars that adorned the Winchester bodies. It had been taken care of in a hospital, by doctors, not with dental floss and a bottle of Jack. Castiel wondered if he had any other marks on his body that he wasn't aware of.

"Good news. Jimmy's parents are still alive and in their late 80's. That's good genetics for you. Mom had cataracts though, and dad has high blood pressure. Something to think about, you know, later…"

Sam said that cautiously, watching Castiel carefully. Castiel had no idea how much 'later' he would have. Would he fall completely, cut off from heaven forever, left to live his existence as a human until maybe his late 80's if he was lucky? Or would he somehow regain his angelic existence? He wasn't sure, but filed the information away for later anyway.

"Hey, wait, here, read this," Dean said, suddenly shoving a paper right under Castiel's nose. Annoyed, Castiel gripped the paper, squinted at it and then held it at arm's length. Dean made a frustrated sound, grabbed the paper again, and pushed it closer. "No. Here. Read it here."

"It's too blurry," Castiel said with frustration, pushing the paper away again.

"Why didn't you say you were far-sighted?" Dean asked, looking annoyed. Castiel looked back at him blankly, having no idea what that meant. "You can't see things up close. You should have mentioned it."

"…isn't that how human eyes work?" Castiel asked tentatively. He was starting to realize perhaps he'd been mistaken about that assumption. Everything else around him seemed muted and distorted since he was losing his power. Not being able to see properly seemed like it was just something else humans had to deal with.

"No. You should be able to see up close. Didn't you ever notice Sam with his nose buried in a book?"

Thinking back on it, Castiel realized the brothers did read with their faces much closer to whatever they were reading. He hadn't really thought about it though, or maybe just thought they had adjusted to it in some fashion.

"Don't worry," Sam said "We can get you some reading glasses. It'll make it easier to read."

"Then you'll look extra nerdy," Dean laughed.

"Is there… anything else wrong with my body?" Castiel asked, looking over the sea of papers.

"Nothing major," Dean said, pushing through them. "Some colds, a sprained ankle, a filled cavity. Pretty normal human stuff."

Castiel nodded, his eyes still fixed on the papers. He knew all the history of the whole world, had witnessed much of it in his long existence, but here was 38 years of history, directly related to him, that he knew nothing about, all written down and typed up, conveniently available for him to peruse and study. One, insignificant human life, but it was of great importance to him now.

Castiel went with Sam to a pharmacy, and they picked some reading glasses off a rack, finding the right prescription by trial and error, as Sam held out his license to see if Castiel could read it up close. Castiel was amazed by the little tool, perched on his nose that made the letters jump into clarity before his eyes, brushing away the strain and headaches he had been getting from trying to read before.

When they found the right prescription, Sam picked out a set of small, finely rimmed navy blue glasses, and a small metal carrying case for them. The glasses folded up neatly inside, and Castiel could carry it in his pocket, a barely there weight, promising sight and clarity in the future.

Back at the motel, Castiel sat on the bed, the medical papers around him, and the reading glasses perched on his nose. Dean called him a nerd, but with a glare, he left Castiel alone to pore through his medical history with a level of concentration and focus usually reserved for hunt research. He had Sam's laptop next to him, and looked up words he didn't know. Sometimes he understood what they meant, sometimes the concept was still too foreign to him.

He read late into the night, until he fell asleep in his pile of papers, his glasses skewed on his face. Sam collected the papers carefully and set them on the side table in some semblance of order. Dean took his glasses off and put them away. Together, the brothers settled Castiel more comfortably on the bed.

"Don't worry, Cas," Dean said softly, so as not to wake the fallen angel. "We'll take better care of you from now on."


End file.
